


Modern Mabari in Thedas

by AParticularlyLargeBear



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Humor, Modern Girl in Thedas, Sarcasm, Um. Kind of.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-05-11 21:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5642776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AParticularlyLargeBear/pseuds/AParticularlyLargeBear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the starring roles have already been taken, sometimes the forces of narrative have to get a little bit... creative.</p><p>Born of a plot nug that just would not leave me alone. Not 100% serious, but not crack. Frequent bad language and a heavy helping of sarcasm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Where? A three room apartment. Living area, bedroom, cramped kitchen. Extremely messy, floor consisting more of abandoned t-shirts and pants than carpet. Dishes haphazardly stacked up, washed but not stowed away. Couch occupied by a thick duvet. Also a snoring figure.

Who? Young woman. Early to mid twenties. Wearing a tanktop as pyjamas, lying upside down on the sofa. Laptop on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing. The snoring was really quite loud.

When? A few ticks past midnight, as these types of things were wont to be.

How? … Well, honestly, your guess is as good as mine. What do you take me for, a narrator?

The details? A surge of something one part electrical and one part magical, prickling across the skin like jamming a fork into a toaster. The laptop crackled, the woman’s back arched, and then all of a sudden, there wasn’t a woman any longer.

A decisive _clap_ heralded the laptop snapping closed. It whirred softly, in the manner of a cat that had got the cream.

The apartment fell silent. Now nobody was going to get to those dishes.

 

* * *

 

It was cold. Had she kicked her quilt off the sofa in her sleep again? Catherine usually tried to avoid using her apartment’s heater in favour of piling up the blankets, but she had a bad habit of moving around in her sleep. She’d woken up shivering in the night more than once.

Eh, no big deal. Simple matter to lean down and pick it up off the floor- hold the phone.

Cat was already on the floor. She could tell, because when she shifted her weight, she sank slightly into the _snow beneath her body_.

Why the hell was it snowing? It was the middle of June, for fuck’s sake!

Barring some kind of freak meteorological phenomenon, she was outside, too, which was probably the more pressing concern. Last thing she remembered she was in her apartment and warm. This was neither of those things. Abduction? Wait, that made no sense. She’d be in someone’s basement. Stupid prank?

Catherine ran a mental inventory of those of her friends who would be big enough jerks to dump her in the snow after breaking into her home in the night. She turned up several more matches than was probably healthy. Her friends were the worst. Goddammit.

Part of her was jealous for not thinking of something like this first.

Heavy scents reached her nose. Woodsmoke. The tang of metal. Hot bread. Something more pungent- oh. Gross. Cat tried to concentrate on the bread.

She realised she hadn’t opened her eyes. Normal reaction upon waking up, honestly. Cat liked to keep her eyes squeezed shut and her head under the covers until she was absolutely certain that any chance of falling back asleep was lost. She was a pro at lie-ins. Could win Olympic gold for ‘five more minutes’. Flawless technique, 10/10.

Granted, trying to sleep in what felt like a good couple inches of snow didn’t strike her as the best plan. Catherine sighed – a huff that felt strangely … heavy – and opened her eyes.

Yep. That was definitely snow. Lots and lots of snow.

She was lying on her stomach in a position that seemed like it should have been more awkward than it actually felt. Her extremities were… numb wasn’t the right word, perhaps ‘dull’ was what she was looking for. Less sensitive than she was used to, as if the finer motor control had been somehow blunted. Very odd, and it was saying something that those feelings were only the _second_ weirdest thing that now hit her senses.

No, what Cat could see? That definitely took the cake. Probably the trestle table the cake was standing on, too.

This wasn’t her apartment. This wasn’t even her city.

See she knew that because, pooling all of her architectural and geographical knowledge, Cat was correctly able to determine that her place of residence didn’t consist of _thatch-roofed cottages._ She was good at this deduction thing. She should have a TV show and/or webseries cataloguing her misadventures and hijinx ™.

For all that, though, Catherine couldn’t help but be struck by a sudden wave of déjà vu. She had absolutely never been anywhere resembling this – she supposed it was a town – in her life. She was equally sure that these houses, the layout of the buildings, were something that she’d seen before. Not precisely from this angle, and Cat would remember the chill if she’d flopped about in the snow, but…

Wait a second.

Cat looked up.

There was a hole in the sky. A stonking great hole, complete with green swirls and an uneasy sense of looking into something that went _beyond_ the sky and into something else entirely.

Nnnno way. No fucking way.

She did know where she was. Haven. Which made this probably the most pathetic yet simultaneously awesome dream she’d had for quite some time.

Haven, as in that-town-from-a-video-game, as in she was –dreaming-about-Dragon-Age. Surprisingly lucidly at that. There weren’t nearly as many strangely dressed antelope as she was used to, and she’d yet to see any evidence at all of that guy wearing a top hat who always wanted to juggle knives with her. Admittedly, Catherine could think of more exciting directions for things to go than ‘making snow angels in Haven’, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. It was cool enough that she had a ground-eye view of something like this, and hey, maybe something else would happen, yet. This was Haven, after all. The Inquisition was born here! Freaking sweet!

All right, maybe this was kind of weird. Cat didn’t ever have this many coherent thoughts while she was asleep. Usually the time she started realising she was dreaming was when she startled herself awake. Invariably when things were starting to get good. Dammit, now that she’d thought _that_ , Cat could already feel herself drifting into wakefulness. Gah! She hadn’t even got to do anything except stare at buildings! This had better be a _recurring_ dream, or she was going to be so damn mad with herself!

Grumbling – a growl pitched right at the back of her throat – Cat began to rise. Best to get this over with and just wake up. That was what she got for playing games into the night.

Strange, cool dreams.

Okay that was literally zero incentive not to keep playing games.

Her hands felt even weirder now that she was actively trying to use them. Her balance and weight were… they were wrong, somehow. Cat simultaneously felt heavier and lighter than was entirely correct. Actually, it went a little deeper than that. The signals her body was giving off, it was as if she’d been unscrewed and then bolted back together again in a completely different order.

Cat frowned and looked down, a motion which took more effort than it should have done.

Two thick paws sank into the snow beneath her.

The resultant chorus of dismayed barking resounded through the crisp winter air.


	2. Chapter 2

What the _frickedy frakking fuck?_

Point the first; she wasn’t waking up.

Point the second; why was she a freaking dog!?

Okay, no, this was stupid. Cat was panicking for no reason. The fact that she was a dog essentially confirmed that this was a dream. It was just the kind of out and out weird thing that cropped up in someone’s sleep. Hadn’t she spent a couple of hours last night complaining that Inquisition didn’t have a mabari companion in it? Exactly; that had been on Cat’s mind before she went to bed (well, sofa), and now it was cropping up in her unconscious mind.

Didn’t explain why she couldn’t rouse herself, though. Maybe some kind of sleep paralysis? Cat wasn’t sure how that was supposed to work, but it definitely sounded very psychological, so hey. As good a reassurance as any, right?

Cat fidgeted awkwardly on the floor. She had too many legs and not enough hands. She… thought that she was standing up? Yes, yes, she was up. Quadripedally. She could feel her back… paws shifting in the snow, what had to be claws digging slightly for purchase. Her field of view was too low; Cat kept straining to rise, and then realising that a couple of feet off the ground was eye level, for the time being.

She craned her neck, attempting to get a better view of herself. Without a point of reference, it was difficult to say how large she was. Definitely mabari-sized. Her… fur was dark; darker than the tan Cat was used to from the games. Deep brown. If she crossed her eyes a little, Cat could see the tip of her own muzzle. Stubby. She twitched her nose experimentally, and was flooded with a fresh array of scents. Sensitive… was that meat she could smell cooking? Suddenly Cat’s mouth felt damp, and she swallowed once, twice. Nevertheless, she felt something trickling out of the corners of her mouth. Oh for the love of – was she drooling!?

Saliva dripped onto the snow in front of her. Disgusting. Cat tried to rein it in, but only succeeded in letting her tongue flop out of her mouth.

_Pant pant pant._

Cat did her best to ignore it. She could at least commend her imagination for being thorough with the details. Even the gross ones. Experimentally, she tried to move, grappling with unfamiliar muscles and limbs. She shuffled, tensed, and felt something lock up in her back legs. She’d scarcely even managed a step, and now everything was… trembling? Uh, wait a second-

Her body suddenly launched itself forward. With her front paws planted in the snow, this had the straightforward effect of Cat doing half of a somersault and smashing her face straight into the snow, before completing the flip and landing flat on her back.

“Ow,” she said, or rather, attempted to say.

It came out as more of a whine. Well, no, not _more_ of a whine. Definitely a whine, coming from the depths of her throat and all the way up. Cat imagined that it had to sound pretty plaintive. If she was a passing person, she would definitely feel extremely sorry for the poor animal that was making the noise.

Cat certainly felt pretty sorry for herself, as she kicked her legs in the air and at length managed to roll over and get them back underneath her. This was balls and she didn’t like it. She couldn’t even pinch herself to wake up, because she didn’t have any fricking fingers to do it with.

Grumbling in a distinctively doglike fashion, Cat started forward again. With the previous experience to go off, she was able to keep control of her arms and legs- her legs and _other_ legs, and break into a gentle trot. Steadily, she managed to settle into a rhythm via the technique of avoiding actually looking or thinking about the way she was moving. The second she considered how each paw was in motion, she stumbled over them and fwoof, she was back down in the snow again.

She let her frustrations vent, and growled. It felt… surprisingly good to do so, as if she was scratching an itch she hadn’t known was there.

As she moved, Cat glanced this way and that, trying to figure out exactly where she was in Haven. The details didn’t quite match up with what she remembered from playing the game. It looked and felt bigger; more houses, more people, more of a settlement. Okay sure, it was no inner city street, but it _bustled_ a lot more than Catherine ever recalled seeing before. Of course, she was smaller, in a manner of speaking, so maybe that was down more to perspective than actual differences. Regardless, she found that she was having a bit of a hard time navigating; that tall building off in the distance had to be the village chantry, but there were more rows of buildings than she was expecting between her and it.

Her dreaming imagination was so weird. It created this entire hyper-realistic environment around her, and yet instead of being someone awesome, like the Herald, or Hawke, or any of their companions. She was. A. Mabari.  Like c’mon, throw her a bone! (…wait). This was a dream! The possibilities were endless! She could have been a mage, she could have been prime ass-kicker Cassandra Pentaghast, or the Iron freaking Bull!

Stupid imagination. If she remembered this in the morning, Cat was going to… uh… well… there weren’t really many things a person could do to threaten the inside of their own mind. Watch trashy TV series on Netflix all day? Hah! Take that, brain; tremble before the drudgery of a 24-hour marathon of appalling soap operas!

Cat grinned. Or she thought she grinned, anyway. There were a lot of teeth in this mouth of hers and the parts didn’t all work in the same way as it felt they should. Especially the lips. At least she’d stopped dribbling all over the place. Her nose was still alerting her to every little shift in scent. Sweat, plants, herbs, animals. Awake, Cat had been nursing a cold, so this was a pleasant diversion. Clear sinuses weren’t quite enough for her to forgive the whole mabari thing, though. It was like asking ‘would you rather be a millionaire with a cold, or a secretary with amazingly clear nasal passageways?’.

Not that she had anything against secretaries. Nothing apart from their lack of huge piles of cash, anyway.

Cat kept going, twisting and turning between buildings. Haven definitely hadn’t had alleyways in the game, and she was getting a little bit lost. Kind of chilly, too, although the fur was taking the edge off of the low temperature.

…Wait. For fuck’s sake! This was one of those stupid naked dreams too, wasn’t it? Cat certainly wasn’t wearing clothes on her canine body, which meant – fuck! Okay, that was Cat, 0, her brain 1. Sneaky bastard grey matter. She was definitely Netflixing in retaliation.

“Oh, heya big guy. Whatcha doing all on your lonesome, huh?”

Cat blinked and looked up. Not far up.

A dwarf was peering down at her, hands resting on knees. They were a young-looking woman with short, flame-red hair and blue eyes. She was quite slim, by dwarf standards; maybe a little scrawny, actually. What caught Cat’s attention, though, were the markings on her right cheek. They were built around a symbol which Cat knew meant casteless, but twisted off into a tattoo that wended its way across the entire cheek, brushing the area around the eye. The design resembled tangled vines and plants. That was odd. The dwarf didn’t look like anyone Cat recognised, not even an NPC; her imagination must have conjured up someone completely new.

Cat’s scrutiny was interrupted by a sudden sensation of sheer bliss. What the- what was _that?_ Jesus Christ that felt _good!_ Her stubby tail was wagging, and it took her a few seconds more to realise that the amazing shooting stars crackling down her spine originated in the top of her skull. Where the dwarf was scratching her behind the ears.

Ahem.

“Aw, you’re cute,” the dwarf straightened, and Catherine felt a pang of loss. She had to resist the urge to whine. “You lost? I know the feeling,” a tilt of the head. “I was just gonna head up to the chantry. You wanna come too? Maybe we’ll find your owner.”

The chantry, huh? By Cat’s reckoning, if this was Haven and the Breach in the sky was still kicking around, that meant the Inquisition was alive and well. So hopefully, there would be the actual characters from the game in there! Yes! Now she just needed to avoid waking up before the cool stuff happened and this dream would have been worth all the weirdness after all.

She tried to say ‘yes,’. It came out as an enthusiastic bark, which she supposed sort of counted.

The dwarf grinned and turned away, beckoning. Cat followed.

She chattered away as they walked, seeming not to mind that the conversation was one-sided. “Y’know, I don’t really know anything about dogs. Don’t have ‘em in Orzammar. You look tough though. Wouldn’t’ve minded having you with me when the carta tried kicking down my door. Betcha would’ve taken an arm off.”

Sheesh. Violent.

“Oh I know!” the dwarf stopped, smiled over her shoulder at Cat. “I’ll take you to Cullen. He’s nice, don’t worry,” she set off again, still explaining. “Fereldans love dogs like dusters love nugs. …Actually not exactly like they love nugs. They don’t eat the dogs. But they like ‘em a lot. I’m sure he’ll go all gooey over you. I’ll haveta make sure he doesn’t give you too many treats!”

“ _There_ you are!”

The dwarf jumped, and immediately looked guilty. “Oh. Uh. Heya Josephine!”

Ooh, Josephine! Cat strained her neck to look past the dwarf and try to catch a glimpse of the ambassador. Sure enough, the Antivan woman – Cat knew she’d recognised the voice – was bearing down upon the dwarf, a stern expression on her face and… and hold on. Why was Josephine wearing _armour?_

“You’re late for training!”

“Uh… I thought that was tomorrow, sorry.”

“It’s every day. At the same time.”

“…Whoops?” the dwarf smiled sheepishly. Josephine looked less than amused.

“Honestly, you’ll never be fit for the front lines unless you stick to your regime! Training field! Now!”

“But I was taking this dog-“

“ _Bring_ the mabari!” Josephine spun on her heel and began marching off. Yep, that was definitely armour; mail and breastplate, the latter emblazoned with Inquisition heraldry. She even had a sword belted at her waist. That just made no sense at all. Josephine was supposed to be a diplomat, not a soldier.

“I…  uh… r-right! Sorry, commander. Be right there," The dwarf hurried after her, stopped in her tracks, looked back to Cat. “C’mon then, buddy. Sorry. We’ll find your master soon. Promise!”

Cat followed, face creased in the canine equivalent of a frown.

Commander?


	3. Chapter 3

Josephine’s stride wasn’t long, but her pace was rapid enough that the dwarf had to almost jog to keep up. Catherine, at the back of the little procession, loped along in the dwarf’s wake, still puzzling over the oddity that was, well, Josephine.

Cat didn’t get it. Josephine was just about the last person she’d expect to see carrying a weapon. Where was her little… quilly… lectern thing? Where was the gorgeous golden outfit that she wore? Catherine couldn’t claim to have spent very much brainpower on the concept of what the ambassador would smell like… but it was difficult to avoid picking up scents with a nose like hers. This Josephine smelt of iron and sweat, leather and polish. In short, nothing like someone who spent all their time in an office. True, Cat being a mabari probably gave an idea of the ballpark of weirdness she should expect everything else to be in, it was just…

Well, when Cat had weird dreams they tended to take a leap off the Olympic diving board, do a flip and then swan dive into the very depths of strange. Psychedelic colour schemes, trees floating off into the sky, and sheep that talked in the voices of her old school teachers. Also it generally got kind of fuzzy around the edges, and while it felt real enough at the time, by the time Cat started to wake up, she was usually starting to pinpoint that the correct sensations weren’t there. This, though? The area around her was crisp, the details firm. The snow crunched underneath her paws, felt cold where she stepped, her breath streaming out in front of her. Murmurs of conversation drifted to her, and the sounds of a bustling village were never out of earshot.

It was unnervingly _real_.

Weaving unerringly through several twists and turns, Josephine led them to a large wooden gate, which stood open. The entrance to Haven, and simultaneously familiar and foreign. How many times had Catherine seen it on her screen, passed through this very opening? Actually doing so was … completely bizarre, and Cat had to force her attention away from it. Instead, she attempted to peek beyond the two people in front of her, which was easier said than done. Being so close to the ground created a unique difficulty of perspective, in that the pair’s _legs_ were getting in her way. Cat was fairly average in height, yet this was giving her a new appreciation for it.

“So, commander… who’ve ya got to kick seven shades of crap outta me today? ‘Cause honestly, that’s kinda what it feels like whenever I come out here.”

Josephine paused. “You are improving, but you need to stop avoiding your sessions, Mistress Cadash.”

Cadash! Cat recognised that name; it belonged to the dwarven protagonist. The casteless brand didn’t quite fit, since Cadash was supposed to be a surface dwarf, but that was far from the biggest discrepancy here, so no sense getting too hung up on it.

Regardless, the dwarf snorted. “I don’t have a title, commander. Not unless you wanna count ‘Stop! Thief!’,” a flashed grin. “And I’m pretty sure ya’ll would rather I didn’t bring that up.”

“Please don’t.”

“Then for sod’s sake, salroka, how ‘boutcha just call me Fortie?”

“It is overly familiar.”

“S’what everyone calls me. My real name’s stupid anyhow.”

Feeling a little left out, Cat barked, an act which continued to feel disconcertingly natural. The dwarf laughed.

“See? The dog is on my side.”

Josephine made an exasperated noise and resumed walking. “Where did you find the mabari anyway?”

“This guy? Just schmoozing ‘round the village. Seems happy enough to follow me; must’ve lost their owner somewhere. I reckon Cullen will be able to dig ‘em up. He’s good at that kind of thing.”

“He also has more important things to do than look after lost dogs.”

“It’ll be a nice break from all the paperwork-ohhhh sod,” Cadash stopped dead. Ahead of her, Josephine had reached an area mostly cleared of snow – a training field of sorts. Waiting there expectantly was a well-built figure, clad in armour and with a helm obscuring their features. Cat recognised the sigil of the Seekers of Truth on the breastplate.

“Nnnnnope. Nuh-uh, no,” Cadash shook her head for good measure. “I am not fighting her. Ain’t happening.”

“You need a strong opponent,” Josephine said patiently. “One that can be relied upon not to go easy on you.”

“Go easy on- are you touched!? She’ll sodding kill me!”

There was an airy chuckle from the armoured individual, and then a feminine, cultured voice emerged. “Come now darling, it’s only training,” she drew her sword with a flourish, hefting a shield on her opposite arm. “You’ll suffer a few bruises at worst.”

Cat was speechless. …Well, she was speechless anyway, but she was speechless in the manner of one stunned into silence rather than one without the requisite control of her mouth. That voice unmistakably belonged to a person who very much should not have been dressed as a Seeker.

Josephine in armour was one thing, but _Vivienne?_

Cadash let out a torrent of curses foul enough to get her banned from Australia, and then pulled out a pair of blades that Catherine hadn’t even seen on her person. Cat didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Fortie had somehow managed to conceal a dirk the length of her forearm. There didn’t seem to be many dirk-sized places to hide such a thing.

The dwarf’s stance was interesting, in Catherine’s one hundred percent unprofessional opinion. She stood almost sideways on to the Seeker, the dirk out in front of her, and the other blade – a small and wickedly-sharp knife, tucked behind her back. It was like looking at a pint-sized fencer. Albeit apparently one who was fully prepared to cheat.

Josephine backed away from the pair, putting a firm hand on Cat’s neck to direct her out of the way. She had to stop herself from growling, because hey wow, rude! Just because she was a dog didn’t mean she should be treated like, uh… um…

A dog. Fuck.

Cat moved aside and then sat down on her haunches. She was curious, and seenas this was what her dream was serving up, it would be rude to ignore it.

Vivienne and Cadash circled one another cautiously. The dwarf was in constant motion, almost bouncing up and down, each guarded step she took appearing like she had the urge to start skittering along. The Seeker (and bloody hell, it was weird to apply that description to someone who was supposed to be a swanky, fancy-pants mage) was implacable, her every move methodical and considered.

It wasn’t much of a surprise that Fortie was the one to break the deadlock, lunging forward with her leading blade. Vivienne casually dipped her shoulder and caught the attempted strike on her shield, retaliating with a deft swing of her own. Cadash ducked, but Cat heard the sword sing through the air as it passed overhead.

“Sodding hell! You’re tryna’ take my head off!”

“Dear, if I were trying to kill you, I assure you that you wouldn’t have the capacity to complain about it.”

Cadash scowled, and went back to the sparring. The blades clashed several times over the course of the next few minutes, neither combatant seeming able to land a decisive blow. It was kinda like watching that one scene from the _Princess Bride_ , only one of them was short, and the other had a shield and – this analogy started falling down the more that Cat thought about it.

Abruptly, the fight ended. Vivienne’s shield crashed square into Cadash’s face and the dwarf went down with a yelp, clutching her nose. Catherine’s snout twitched. She could smell blood. Vivienne immediately sheathed her sword, and a moment later was removing her helm, kneeling down alongside Fortie to check on her. If there were any doubts as to the woman’s identity, that erased them; dark skin, meticulously shaven hair, sharp eyes. This was Vivienne. Dressed as a Seeker.

“Dab bloody hurt Seeker!”

And being referred to as one, too.

“Of course it hurt. I hit you in the face, dear.”

Fortie removed one hand from her streaming nose long enough to make an obscene gesture. Josephine had hurried over, and was trying to get a better look at the injury. Cadash, however, kept jerking her head away. Cat supposed she couldn’t blame her for being annoyed. Vivienne hadn’t pulled the punch in the slightest; the dwarf was probably in a lot of pain.

“Well, it was a good session at least,” said Josephine. “You are certainly learning.”

Cadash grumbled something that Cat didn’t hear but that she suspected was an insult or a curse. Maybe both. Probably both. Vivienne tssked, straightening up and giving a shrug, apparently content that her duty had been fulfilled.

That went on for a little while. Josephine showing concern, Cadash appreciating it like a starving man appreciated an empty fridge, and Vivienne standing aloof off to the side. Cat kind of just sat there awkwardly. Not that she liked seeing anyone hurt, more that there didn’t really seem to be much that she could do in this situation. It wasn’t like she had any pockets with which to produce tissues from. At best she could… what, lick Fortie’s face?

While it was covered in blood? Gross.

A fresh scent caught her nose. Cat blinked a couple of times as she found her tail instinctively wagging. …Having a tail was weird. She puzzled for a moment over what it was that she could actually smell. It was almost like another dog? Kinda? That wasn’t exactly it though, more like … more like the aroma of dogs clinging to a person.

Honestly Cat couldn’t really claim to be an expert in smells. Putting scent into a coherent thought was difficult enough.

“Oi!” the voice hollered out from nearby. Catherine turned to see who was oncoming, and found a figure had already dashed past her in a whirlwind of motion. Cat caught a glimpse of blonde hair, that dog smell again, and then they were all but shoving Josephine out of the way to scowl at both her and Vivienne.

“What do you think you’re doing!?” they – she - snapped. “You go on and on about how she’s your precious-schmecious ‘herald’ and saviour, and now you’re hitting her in the face!”

Vivienne made a terse noise. “Sera, dear, we’re in the middle of training here-“

“Bugger off, Vivi.”

Vivienne’s face went flat, cold. “Remember where you are, Sera.”

“Bugger off, _Lady Vivienne_ ,” yep, that was definitely Sera’s voice. Seemed dressed appropriately too, which was another point in favour of Cat’s imagination not being a complete jerk.

“Vivienne does have a point,” Josephine interjected. “While your concern is appreciated, Sera, once Mistress Cadash is back on her feet-“

“Honestly! You haven’t even checked for a concussion or nothing! She could be really bloody hurt and you want to start swinging swords at her again? No. That’s shite. I want to have a look at her. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re hardly a doctor, dear.”

Sera flipped Vivienne off. “Hey, Fortie? You all right? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“This many.”

Fortie flipped _Sera_ off. The elf giggled madly. “Just give me a second, yeah? I’ll get you fixed in no time.”

Sera tilted back the dwarf’s head, and then all of a sudden, her hands began to _glow_.

What.


	4. Chapter 4

There was a glimmering of blue light around Sera’s fingers, and then the flow of blood from Fortie’s nose ceased. Sera spent the next few moments tilting the dwarf’s head this way and that, inspecting her closely, peering into her eyes, before at length, sitting back, satisfied.

Cat just kept staring. That was probably rude or something, but she was a dog, so her manners weren’t under much scrutiny. Bloody hell, she actually just had that thought. That was actually something she’d devoted actual brainpower towards thinking about. Maybe she really _had_ rolled off the sofa in her sleep, and then landed on her head or something.

Sera was a rogue, not a mage. She was actively scared of magic. That was how things were supposed to be, in spite of the fact that it was now crystal clear that whatever canon had existed was being stomped into the mud and danced a merry jig upon. No more pizza before bed, Cat lied to herself.

This Shit Was Weird.

Meanwhile, Sera offered Fortie a hand and lifted her up onto her feet. The dwarf flashed a rueful grin, wiping blood from her face.

“Thanks, Sera. Ya'll're my favouritest apostate.”

“No contest, right?”

Vivienne’s glare could have melted steel. Cat was almost surprised that the snow around her feet wasn’t turning into steam. Josephine cleared her throat.

“Now that you’ve finished, Sera, could we perhaps resume-“

“Nope,” Sera interrupted. “Didn’t heal Fortie so you could beat her up again. Anyway, I wanna study her handy thingy some more.”

“Certainly, Fortune’s ‘handy-thingy’ must be of utmost academic interest to _rogue mages_ ,” snapped Vivienne.

Fortie made a face, as if she’d just tasted something sour. “Ew. Don’t call me that.”

“Hey, just cause I never went into one of your poxy Circles doesn’t mean I can’t be interested in research.”

“Have a care, darling. A visit to the Circle could quite easily be arranged,” Vivienne spoke smoothly, but her tone had the razor’s edge of a threat.

Sera snorted. “Right, cause you’ve got another Fade expert just hidden up your arse to replace me with.” 

Fortie looked between the pair and then pointedly stepped between them both, laughing nervously. “Uh… how about we cool off a little? Aren’tcha both supposed to be on the same team, here?”

Cat barked in agreement. The naked hostility was beginning to make her feel uncomfortable like a lumpy mattress, and she was already quite uncomfortable enough what with Sera apparently occupying the niche that was supposed to belong to a different person entirely.

Sera quirked an eyebrow Vivienne’s way, lips upturned in a cocky little smirk. Vivienne’s face carefully blank. Then, at an unspoken agreement, they broke eye contact, the Seeker moving off and away towards a set of training dummies.

There was an exasperated sigh from Josephine. “I imagine it’s too much to ask the two of you attempt to get along.”

“Ehh…” Sera shrugged. “Look, Josie. I volunteered to help, yeah? I didn’t volunteer to put up with Vivi’s shite, Seeker or no Seeker. I’ll work with her, but I ain’t going to her tea parties.”

“Annnnyway,” Fortie cut in. “S’just teething problems. Inquisition is brand new. Vivienne’s tight as a bowstring, what with forming the damn thing.”

“Speaking of tight, lemme know when she dislodges the stick from her-“

“ _Regardless_ ,” Josephine interjected, mercifully. “I have quite enough squabbles to handle without our innermost circle at one another’s throats.”

That sounded like something Josephine would say, but as Cat sat there, studying the woman, she found herself discomfited by the slew of subtle differences from the Josephine that she was used to. It wasn’t just that she was wearing armour; the form beneath that armour was lean and muscled, her hair drawn back in a severe bun. There was even, now that Cat looked closely, a long scar traversing Josephine’s jawline, tugging the corner of her mouth ever so slightly to the side.

As if sensing Cat’s eyes upon her, Josephine glanced down, pursing her lips as she regarded Cat in turn. “And I must ask what you intend to do with the dog, Mistress Cadash.”

“We’re friends for life now. Folks’ll tell stories of our epic buddiness.”

Josephine’s responding look was supremely unimpressed. Fortie shrugged and grinned. “Owner’s gotta be around here somewhere, right? It’ll sort itself out.”

“If only we could be quite so blasé about all of our problems,” Josephine said with a sigh. “Very well. Good luck with your …research, and I shall expect you this time tomorrow.”

“Whyyyy meeee,” Fortie whined.

Josephine’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “Oh, do not worry, Mistress Cadash. It’s not only you I drill.”

“And our soldiers are still all alive?”

“Did I say that? I don’t recall saying that.”

Fortie blinked, narrowed her eyes, then pointed two fingers to them, and then back at Josephine. _‘I’m watching you.’_ The dwarf glanced at Sera. “C’mon then, captain magepants.”

Sera stuck out her tongue. “Shut it, lieutenant tats-face,” she regarded Cat for several seconds, and then shook her head. “How about we find this fella’s home, first? Don’t want it staring at me with those googly eyes while I’m trying to think.”

“Works for me,” the two of them set off, and Cat followed, glaring at Sera’s feet. Googly eyes? She did _not_ have googly eyes! At least, she didn’t think so. Jeez, she hoped that she wasn’t one of those cross-eyed dogs who looked as though they were going to stare into the next dimension.

Wait, was she really thinking about whether or not she was a good-looking dog? _Fuck._ Had that pizza she ate been laced with crack rocks? This was all just way too surreal for Cat’s liking, with the frustrating part being that it was within about six inches of being incredibly cool. Which was kind of how a lot of her dreams went, except it was now going on… Cat didn’t have a super great grasp of time, but it seemed like she’d been aware of all of this for at least an hour now.

Which was just disconcerting. If this wasn’t a dream then it was some kind of fucked up virtual reality Matrix bullshit, and nobody had started calling her ‘Ms Anderson’ yet.

“So wait, you aren’t just gonna go around asking if anyone recognises the dog, right?” asked Sera.

“Nah. Taking ‘im to the chantry. Bull an’ Cullen are there.”

“Ah. Dump it on someone else? Good thinking.”

“Woww. Y'make me sound lazy. Lazier than normal.”

They were clearly well at ease with one another. Much more at ease than Cat was with things. She just couldn’t get over the fact that she’d seen Sera using magic. Not only that, but the titbits of conversation – Sera being an apostate, an expert on the Fade, a volunteer… If Sera was all of those things, then what the actual frick was Solas? _Where_ the frick was Solas? Sera had like, stolen his job or something.  If they had credit cards in Thedas, then Sera would be using Solas’s.

Solas would probably have a pretty awful credit rating though.

Finally, the chantry came into view. If anything it was even grander than Cat remembered, and that was saying something considering Haven was such a small town. Some serious time and effort had gone into making the building quite the sight to behold. Banners hanging from the walls made very clear the Inquisition had set up shop. Cat was curious to see inside; surely the limits of her imagination were going to start to stretch before too long? She hoped that they would. Snow and a town were easy enough to well uh… render mentally. Interiors not so much.

She… really hoped that things would start to get fuzzy and indistinct and more, well, dreamlike. Because if they didn’t, that raised some questions which Cat had zero idea of how to answer. Like, quantum physics level zero idea.

Fortie put her shoulder against the chantry doors and pushed them open. Sera strolled in behind her, and Cat brought up the rear. There wasn’t much opportunity to closely study the environment, however, because her attention was immediately occupied by the two men standing just beyond the door, in the midst of an intense discussion. Specifically, her attention was occupied by who the men were. An impressive rack of horns made the first instantly obvious as a qunari. A very particular qunari. Iron Bull.

He wasn’t, however, wearing an eyepatch. And did he seem less… well-built than he should have? It was difficult to tell alongside his companion, a blonde-haired man wearing a tailored outfit who was _definitely_ not as muscular as he should have been. Cullen Rutherford.

They broke off their discussion as Fortie and company arrived. Cat stared in bemusement.

“Ooh, a mabari!” not-exactly-Cullen said, immediately catching sight of her and walking over. He reached out a hand to her, and before she could process what he was doing, it alighted on her head. A moment later, petting commenced. Cat’s eyes rolled. Hgnhdmf. That felt. So good. Why the shit did that feel sodamngood- hngh. This was even better than when Fortie had done it. What _sorcery_ was in Cullen’s hand? Her tongue was lolling out and she found she didn’t even care. _Fuck._ Maybe she was on drugs. Delicious head-patting drugs.

“Aw, what a beautiful girl,” the voice was dim, at the very edge of her comprehension. Cat slowly came down from the high, but couldn’t stop wagging her tail like mad. Cullen had crouched down and was moving his hand around her head, scratching underneath her chin-hgnnghf… Cullen’s voice faded out, then back in again. “ – pure bred. Where did you find her?”

“In an alleyway.”

“Really?” Cullen’s eyebrows rose. “She can’t possibly be a stray. Too well taken care of. I don’t recall any of the Fereldan diplomats trickling in asking for provision for their mabari, either,” Cullen chuckled. “And that’s not the type of thing they’d neglect to mention.”

“Sooo…” Fortie stuck her hands in her pockets. “Any ideas?”

Cullen smiled wryly. “I’m afraid knowing the owner of every animal in Haven goes a little beyond the scope of my duties, Fortune.”

Fortie wrinkled her nose and then scowled at Bull. “I really wish you hadn’t ferreted out my full name, Bull.”

Bull’s eyes – eyes – widened in faux innocence. “What, and miss out on all the opportunities a name like ‘Fortune’ gives me? Not a chance.”

“Ugh. What kind of a spymaster spills all of his own people’s secrets?”

Bull grinned. “Only the funny ones.”

Fortie gestured to Cat. “Well, if ya’ll are so great, how boutcha figure out where this one belongs?”

A shrug from the big qunari. Spymaster. Just when Cat thought she had a handle on things. “You tried asking her?”

“Uh.”

Sera snorted. “Right, talk to the dog.”

“Don’t underestimate a mabari’s intelligence,” Cullen interjected. “You’d be surprised by how much they understand.”

Fortie stared at him for several seconds, and then rolled her eyes with a huge sigh. “Fine. Can’t believe I’m gonna do this,” she swivelled on her heels to regard Cat. “Yo uh… mabari. So uh… where’s your owner?”

Cat looked right back. Yeah, because her vocal cords were definitely going to cooperate with trying to explain that she wasn’t in fact a dog at all. Her consternation expressed itself in a low pitched whine. Fortie exchanged glances with Cullen.

“Do ya… have an owner?”

Cat paused, and then – wait she was an idiot. She could still make gestures, sort of. She shook her head, and felt an unexpected pang of longing. What the- she was a person! She didn’t need to be owned! That was kind of messed up to even think about.

Fortie blinked. “Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.”

“As I said, mabari are intelligent.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get all Fereldan about it, smugface,” Sera muttered.

Bull stroked his chin. “Between that and the whining…” he winced. “I’d say she might have lost her owner at the Conclave.”

“Maker,” Cullen sighed. “I didn’t consider that. You’re likely right.”

Fortie was quiet for several seconds, just looking at her, and then spoke. “Wanna stick with me, girl?”

Cat hesitated, briefly. Just how far was this rabbit hole going to go? Or… dog … kennel?

Screw it. In for a very weird penny, probably with two heads, in for an equally weird pound.

She barked assent.


	5. Chapter 5

Fortie took off not long after her ‘discussion’ with Cat, and at this point, Cat was invested. In for a penny, in for a pound, right? Or… in for a sovereign, something like that. Anyway, Sera stopped off at the chantry to talk to Bull about something and Cullen apparently had paperwork to do, which was exactly the kind of thing that Cat didn’t associate with Cullen.

  
Honestly, at this point Cat had pretty much given up trying to keep track. No amount of agonising or sideeying what she was experiencing would change it. Possibly pinching herself would do something, but she lacked the fingers to do that. She could always headbutt a wall, she supposed.

  
“Too bad you’ve got no collar or nothing,” said Fortie, glancing down at Cat. “Can’t just keep calling you ‘dog’, can I?”

  
Cat snorted. She, in fact, had called her mabari just that more than once. What could she say? She wasn’t always a font of creativity.

  
Fortie raised an eyebrow. “Y’know, I think ya’ll really are that smart, aren’tcha?"

  
Cat was halfway through a bark before she remembered, once again, that she was capable of nodding. Ugggggh. She did nod, but it felt a little bit superfluous at that point. Like the appendix of gestures.

  
The dwarf grinned. “Anyhow, I’m not real great with names. So uh… Ima just throw out a few ideas and lemme know what you think.”

  
Cat narrowed her eyes. Okay, so what were the odds that Fortie’s dwarven-

  
“How ‘bout Dust?”

  
\- one to one, apparently.

  
She shook her head. No she was not being named after dirt.

  
“Aw, really? Ya’ll don’t like that? But y’all’re the right colour. It works!”

  
A growling noise emitted from Cat’s throat. It surprised her a little - she didn’t mean to, but it did accurately reflect how she felt. Maybe that was why dogs did it.  
Fortie broke into giggles. “Aright aright aright. I was kidding.”

  
Frigging troll.

  
She ran through a few, with ‘picky bitch’ being a particular highlight, Cat rejecting each one, even the ones which were kind of decent - mostly out of spite. If she was gonna be a dog - and she was still kinda waiting for the dream to end, or at least be less trippy as fuck - she was at least going to be a dog with a not stupid name.

  
“Nugchop.”

  
What the fuck no-

  
“Fortie my friend! You look positively enmabaried!”

  
A figure swooped by, and Cat barked in alarm as they swung around her to kiss Fortie on the cheek.

  
“Dorian! How ya doing?”

  
Wait, back up a second - Dorian shouldn’t be here yet, right? The Inquisition was supposedly brand new, and Dorian showed up right before everything went nuts, one way or another. But now, that was most certainly him - stylish, handsome, moustachioed- actually he was dressed pretty similarly to how Cat would have expected.

  
“All the more excellent for seeing you,” Dorian peered down at her. “And who is your handsome canine companion?”

  
“Oh, her?” Fortie grinned. “That’s Nugchop. Say hi, Nugchop.”

  
Cat gave Fortie a look so withering that it was some kind of divine intervention that she didn’t just turn into a mummy right then and there. The dwarf beamed back like the world’s most irritating angel.

  
Dorian chuckled. “I see. Well, far be it from me to criticise, though I must ask; where did you find her?”

  
Fortie shrugged. “Iunno. Around.”

  
“As wonderfully specific as I’ve come to expect.”

  
“Specifics’re boring.”

  
Cat glanced between them both and then let out a huff. She wasn’t just like… like a thing to be discussed. She was a person - or at least halfway to being a person. The parts that counted, anyhow.

  
“Aw, she’s getting grumpy.”

  
“Indeed. Have you fed her?”

  
Cat’s ears perked up without her ever meaning them to. Food? Food sounded good right about now. Actually she was starving.

  
“Uh…”

  
Dorian ‘hmphed’ softly. “Really now - if one plans to adopt a dog, one must also plan for its needs,” he folded his arms, arched an eyebrow.

  
“Hey!” Fortie protested. “I literally just got her! What was I sposed to do, give scraps to a random dog? What if it was a Fereldan’s precious poochy that needed like, only the most delicate druffalo meat, aged sixteen years from lambs reared in perfect darkness - but only the kinda darkness found in underground chambers in Orlais. North Orlais.”

  
“Really now?”

  
“Ya’ll laugh now, but these nobles can be very finnicky ‘bout their pets.”

  
“As if a Fereldan would ever feed their mabari Orlesian meat.”

  
Fortie snorted. Cat was starting to feel left out again, especially after food was being brought up and explicitly not been given to her.

  
Her stomach was totally doing that gurgly thing where it really wanted something inside of it like stat.

  
“Aright buddy, let’s go grab you some food, huh?”

  
Yesssss.

  
This was going to be dream food, but if it tasted half as delicious as all the rest of that dreamfood had smelt, then Cat was totally onboard with it. At this point it was pretty much a matter of enjoying the weird weird weird (weird) experience whilst it lasted. She was getting used to operating four legs rather than two, at least. She could totally add that to her resumé ‘expert in usage of quadrupedal bodies’ - then she could get even less job offers than the zero she was already getting.

  
“I’m sure I spotted somebody hawking some manner of meat closer to the gate,” Dorian made a gesture and started off, Fortie following closely after him, and Cat last of all.

  
“Heh, you said ‘hawk’.”

  
Dorian theatrically rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes - it’s funny because of my memoirs.”

  
“Naw. It’s funny cause Vivienne watches you like one.”

  
“I would accept that explanation if you’d ever so much as seen a hawk.”

  
“Details.”

  
Hawk… Hawke? Is that what Fortie was poking fun at? That didn’t make sense though-

  
Okay Cat was just kind of going to forbid herself from thinking that any longer. Clearly this entire situation had turned over a new leaf and sworn off making any kind of sense period. That or it was just on cocaine.

  
“Anyhow, sorry,” Fortie added. “Was just messing with ya.”

  
Dorian waved a hand, crossing a snow-drowned pathway. “It’s quite all right, but you must understand that I’ve had to endure the loving attentions of dearest Vivienne for some time. Carver Hawke is not a topic I’m currently eager to broach.”

  
Record scratch. Cat actually stopped dead in her tracks. Um.

  
Dorian knew Carver? ‘Hawke’ meant Carver? But in that case, then Carver was- then Dorian had to be…

  
Nopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenopenope

  
This dream officially just got Way Too Weird. Why the heck couldn’t she wake herself up? Cat wanted to get off of Mister Dreamscape’s Wild Ride this very second. Dragon Age wasn’t so cool when everything was backwards, upside down and inside out. Next, she’d be hearing that dwarves were actually darkspawn.

  
…

No. Fortie was right there. That definitely wasn’t a thing.

  
In a daze, Cat didn’t notice that Fortie had stopped until she rammed her head into the small of the dwarf’s back. Fortie yelped, then broke off, laughing.  
“Sheesh. Ya’ll’re really that hungry, huh? Pushy.”

  
Cat grumbled under her canine breath, but - what the heck was that that smelled delicious holy shit. There was a cooking fire, tended by a scrawny young elven man, turning something over and over.

  
She salivated (dammit) as Dorian produced a sizzling chunk of meat on a skewer, turning around with a mischievous smile on his face.  
“Here we are then. Haven’s finest dining for you.”

  
He lowered towards her- _crunch_.

  
Oh.

  
My.

  
God.

  
That tasted.

  
So.

  
Good.

  
At that point, Cat’s brain… sort of stopped working. Food. Just. Oh my god. Food.

  
The last thing she remembered was nuzzling close against Fortie’s side and, lulled by a scritching behind the ears, falling asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Cat slept, and dreamed.

Double dreaming. Fricking Inception.

She found herself in a strange, misty place. Well, strange went without saying right now, but definitely misty, at the very least.

And dude she had  _hands_ again so as far as she was concerned she could be dreaming about being dumped in the middle of Mordor and she wouldn't mind too much. She was sorry, opposable thumbs, but she'd changed now, come back to her, baby.

Not that there was much of anything to actually hold with her hands. Where  _was_ this?

The mist swirled around Cat's feet, moving in patterns that didn't seem to correspond to any natural movement. There wasn't a breath of wind; the only motion was her own footsteps. Heck, the only sound was her footsteps, and they were muffled, on account that she wasn't wearing any shoes.

The stone beneath her was not only jagged, but  _freezing_. The thin white socks she wore did not go very far to stopping the cold seeping through.

She kinda missed the fur. She was already starting to shiver.- Wait wait wait, no. Karma would dictate the second she thought something like that, she'd wind up back as a dog. Cat took a second to reacquaint herself with, uh, herself. Spiky hair (hopefully still pink, that'd been a pain in the ass to get right), septum and lip reassuringly pierced, skinny and lanky (too lanky). Huzzah, she was here in all her glory. Wherever 'here' happened to be.

At least the setting back in Haven had been familiar. (Did she seriously just think that?) Cat had no idea where this was. Looked like something out of Silent Hill, what with the deathly quiet and mist and murderous nurses...

Well, not yet, but Cat was getting the heebie-jeebies. She felt like the damsel in distress who was about to catch a knife to the jugular, probably with frantic violin playing in the background. There was nothing to be but walk, and rock formations were constantly looming out of the fog, just seconds before she collided with them. Each time she was forced to go around, find a way forward.

Hell, she didn't even know why she was walking, other than curiosity. And the novelty of having two legs again.

Cat considered calling out for a moment, but the moment she opened her mouth, it ran dry, and soon enough, she closed it again. What if something  _answered?_

Then, something on the air. Low humming, with a slight nod towards carrying a tune. Cat tried to figure out where it was coming from, but the mist muddled things, ruining her sense of direction - and hers was bad enough to begin with. She'd got lost in the same mall twice in one day, once.

The sound got louder. Closer? Oh shit, there really was some kind of knife murderer out there. If she died in the dream did she die in real life? That was some Freddy Krueger shit right there. Or maybe she died in the first layer of the dream but not real life and then woke up or...

Okay well she wasn't throwing herself on a knife to see if it would wake her up. Cat wasn't that dumb. She looked left, looked right. Where was that coming from? She thought it was on her right hand side, but when she looked over, then it seemed the left, and then straight in front of her, or-

The voice came almost in her ear.

"Oi, spirit. It's dangerous here."

Cat jumped, whipped around.

Sera was standing directly behind her, hands on hips, one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, didn't wanna scare ya, but all the news from round here is bad," she made a gesture, pointing at something away to the side which Cat utterly failed to see. "I know that the bloody great rift is all tempting-like, but trust me, if you get too close, you're not coming back. Best to stick clear, yeah?"

Cat stared at her.

Why was Sera here?

Where was Sera here?

Sera's slight smile gave way to a frown. "Wait a sec..." she leaned closer, scrutinising her. "Wait, what the frig  _are_ you?"

Wow, rude. "A person?" Cat found her voice, finally. "What do I look like, a hatstand?" found her sarcasm, too. Good, she couldn't have hit her head too hard.

"Ooh, smartarse," Sera looked at her with narrowed eyes. "But you aren't a mage, so how the frigging hell are you awake?"

"Y'know, the usual way. Fell asleep in a place I've never been and woke up somewhere else I've never been."

Cat was trying not to think about how weird this was. It was difficult to succeed. She was having a conversation with a video game character in a misty nowhere.

"You what?" Sera tilted her head to the side. "You just up and wound up in the Fade by accident. Sure."

The Fade.

Fuck.

Wait, no, that didn't really adequately capture her opinion on the matter.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuck.

"Well I don't bloody know!" said Cat indignantly. Being judged wasn't fair - it wasn't her fault none of this made sense! "I just woke up here!"

"But that doesn't happen, yeah? Non-mages are proper asleep."

"Maybe I _am_ a mage!" she probably wasn't. Cat had never set anyone fire for getting on her nerves and she probably would have done if she was capable of it.

Sera scoffed. "Are not. You'd be lit up like a beacon if you were."

"I'm a _cold_ beacon."

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Sera started giggling. "Funny one, you. Weird, like, but good weird."

"You're pretty weird yourself."

Sera shrugged. "Yeah, and?"

Cat didn't really have a response for that. 

So close to Sera, the differences to the person she ah... 'knew', were a little more pronounced. Her hair was kinda shorter, and the ends were a little ragged, just like the jagged fringe. Her clothes were a little more rugged, better suited for travelling. Oh, and the staff.

Gnarled, partially scorched. It looked more like a branch than an actual magical tool. Which was a nice thing to imagine it was because that was an easier logical hoop to jump through than  _Sera_ being a  _mage_.

"You done staring?" 

Cat jumped, flushed slightly. Shit, she had been staring. "Yeah, sure."

Sera laughed. "Well, honest at least," she stuck out her free hand. "Name's Sera, weirdo."

"Do you always introduce yourself as a weirdo?"

"...Pfff."

Cat took the handshake. "I'm Catherine."

Leaning backward a little, Sera eyed her again. "Don't think you belong here," she made a vague gesture. "Not the Fade. Everywhere, here." 

Couldn't really argue with that. "You're right. I'm from someplace else."

"Hum..." her eyes narrowed. "Think it's best if you went back then, yeah?"

Cat was just about to say that she didn't know  _how_ when she picked up on the slight movement Sera made with her right hand, glistening with a strange silvery light.

Ah.

Crap.

"Hold on-"

Warmth and darkness enveloped her, and she opened her eyes.

* * *

Cat jerked awake with a yelp, flailing wildly.

Her feet collided heavily with something soft and yielding that made an 'oof!' sound.

"Sodding hell, Nugchop!" was the groan.

God-freaking-dammit.

 Not only had she woken up - from a dream - to still be here, she was still distressingly four-legged and canine. 

She'd also, from the warm body of the person currently attempting to escape from paw range, apparently fallen asleep curled up with Fortie.

Cat didn't know how to feel about that.

She focused on what she  _did_ know how to feel about.

_God-freaking-dammit!_

This was completely fucked. Completely and absolutely fucked. The novelty, such as it was, had very nearly been fun before, but however much of a welcome it'd had, said welcome was now thoroughly worn out.  

Cat did not care for this worryingly lucid dream. Cat wanted to go home. Cat wanted to get back to experiencing video games via a screen and control. Cat wanted a pizza.

She'd take like, a burger, but the rest wasn't negotiable.

Reluctantly, Cat bit the bullet and did what she'd been delaying. She opened her eyes.

Yep, this was a house in Haven.

Yep, that was Fortie in nothing but her underwear and a scowl.

If Cat's canine countenance were capable of blushing, she would have turned a bright red.

Figured that the closest she'd got to another person in like a year was falling asleep on them and then being used as a pillow.

"I was actually sleeping okay for once," Fortie grumbled, sitting up in bed and rubbing her eyes. "Y'all're lucky you're comfy."

Cat looked down, abashed. She'd totally kicked Fortie in the stomach waking up. Regardless of the circumstances, that was pretty rude - couldn't very well go around kicking people just because you were upset.

"Ugh. I can't stay mad at that face. C'mere." 

_Scritchscritchscritch._

_Hngh._

That wasn't fair. Petting shouldn't feel that good, and it still wouldn't be fair no matter how many more times it happened.

...No, no, she  _wasn't_ thinking about more head scratches.

Fortie yawned and swung her legs out onto the floor. "Guess we're up now."

The dwarf busied herself with getting groomed and dressed. Cat hopped down to the floor and sat there awkwardly. If only she had clothes that she could wear. And the articulation to actually put any of them on. 

With her back to Cat, she noted that Fortie's facial tattoo wasn't the only one she had. The vines and leaves wound across her left shoulder and most of the way down her back, across the centre of her spine. They really were incredibly intricate - black sentciling that must have taken hours upon hours to ink into her skin - and with the capable hands of an expert, at that. 

Cat dug tattoos. She'd always wanted some, but never quite plucked up the courage and decisiveness to get it done. She kept changing her mind about what she wanted. Also she tended to be pretty broke, and if she was getting something permanently on her skin, she wanted to make sure she could afford someone who was good. Cat did not want to get onto one of those 'worst tattoos' hitlists.

No harm in looking, though.

"Reckon Josie'll let you come with us, girl?" Fortie mused, pulling on a thick woolen shirt. "I mean, I'm sure Cullen'd look after you, but..."

Cat tilted her head to one side. Come where? A noise emerged from the back of her throat, and she froze. That'd been... an inquisitive aroo? Fucking A'.

Fortie laughed. "Maybe Fereldans aren't that weird about mabari after all. You understand me, don't you?"

She nodded.

The dwarf tapped her temple with a finger. "You're smart. Well, see, we're going someplace called the Hinterlands. Templars'an mages're being jackasses and  _apparently_ we gotta be seen to be... doing something about all that," Fortie shrugged, then grinned. "I mean, hey, if they all say so then I'm not gonna argue. Not like some duster like me knows any better. Gotta be better'an running drugs, right?"

Cat couldn't exactly shrug, but she kind of attempted it anyway. She conveyed the essence of shrug. At least the scenario was familiar, though she hadn't realised this Inquisition was  _that_ new.

Wait. If Bull was spymaster was he Left Hand too?

...

That was simultaneously hilarious and terrifying and Cat wasn't sure whether to hope it wasn't true because it would be fucking insane or hope that it  _was_ true because the image of a qunari in that kind of position was ridiculously funny.

"Anyhow. I don't really wanna leave you by yourself right after making friends."

Aw, she cared.

...Something was wiggling.

...It was her backside.

...

_She was wagging her fucking tail._

Ugh- just... ugh! Cat wasn't a frigging animal, contextual evidence asides. It was  _embarrassing_ to be acting like this; why the hell couldn't she control herself? She shouldn't be susceptible to instincts of a species that wasn't even her own, and-

Fortie was beaming at her.

 _Fuck._ Cat was being cute. Quit looking at her like she was cute! Ugh!

Fortie stepped past, which was some small mercy. "Looks like you wanna stick with me, too. Great! We can be partners in crime!" she paused. "Partners in completely legit chantry business," she amended.

Cat snorted, which was about as close as she could get to a laugh.

"Quiet, you."

 There was a rush of cold air as Fortie opened the shack door, and Cat trotted along after her. She really was starting to get the hang of this four-legged thing, which was only nice insomuch that it was frustrating as hell to not be able to walk in a straight line. None of this anatomy made sense, and Cat tried not to think of the implications of the fact that she'd settled into the groove so easily.

Couldn't have been a  _flying_ dream, could it? Just a dog dream.

She really, quite badly, wanted to keep holding onto the notion that this was a dream.

But, as Cat followed along in Fortie's wake, that opinion was becoming increasingly difficult to cling to. Sure, the scenario was beyond impossible, but if Cat was dreaming, it was the deepest, longest, and most detailed dream she'd ever had. Cat's dreams usually started to fall apart when she looked at them too closely; by the time she realised it was a dream, she was just about ready to wake up. This was just... robust. Robust in a way that it really shouldn't have been. The senses were too real, the sounds and smells and sights, even the feeling of the snow poofing gently around her paws. Too solid - dreams shouldn't be able to fill in this many gaps.

Fortie moved ahead of her. The dwarf's walk was contained, tucked tight into herself; the kind of walk someone used when they didn't want too much attention. The type of walk Cat would never use back home, incidentally. She was, well, she. What you saw was what you got, and if that drew eyes, then to hell with it. Cat wasn't going to act differently just for other people's sake.

Though, if Cat was in a situation like Fortie's, where she'd been thrown from a criminal background into the limelight, then maybe she would have kept her head down a bit more too.

Heh. Keeping her head down. Cause she was a dwarf, like.

" _There_ you are, darling."

Fortie didn't quite manage not to flinch as boots crunched through the snow, heralding Vivienne's approach. Still armed, still armoured. Still  _bizarre._ Vivienne shouldn't be in plate. Vivienne shouldn't have  _muscles._

"Oh, uh, hey, Seeker."

"You're late, Fortune," Vivenne told her reprovingly, before her eyes swept lower, alighting upon Cat. "And I see you still have the dog."

"She lost her owner, Vivienne. Thought I might, y'know, look after her."

"I see," Vivienne inclined her head fractionally. "I imagine there are worse companions. You are, however, still late to our meeting."

"Yeah, ah, sorry," Fortie rubbed the back of her head. "I overslept."

"We surmised as much, darling. Please do make more effort to be punctual; the Herald of Andraste must not be seen to be disorganised."

"I won't tell if you don't."

Vivienne's lips pursed into a thin line. Fortie might have attempted to hide a grin, but if so, she didn't try very hard.

"Strange. I was under the impression you were a smuggler, not a jester."

 "Ha! Madeya admit I'm a criminal."

She withered under the supremely unimpressed gaze which followed from Vivienne.

Cat kinda liked Fortie. Smartass attracted smartass.

She just wished that her ass was smart enough to figure out what in all hell was going on here. Instead of wagging.

...

Cat was never gonna look at an adorable animal picture in the same way again.


End file.
